Plot Line Read Free Page A

to that kind of work again.
    Devlin was correct; the
writer’s mind was different. He needed a creative outlet. No matter
how hard the work of writing, no matter how slow the words came,
he had to write.
Writing wasn’t a desire it was a compulsion. The only time he
wasn’t thinking about writing was when he was asleep, and even then
he dreamed about plots, characters, and action. If he took a
nine-to-five job, he would be relegated to writing in the evenings
and on the weekends. That wouldn’t go over well with Nora. He wrote
his first book that way and several times she threatened to leave
him.
    Nora was a good woman at heart, but her
Irish-quick temper had always been a problem. How different his
daughter was. She was as emotionally level as any man or woman he
had ever met. Just fifteen-years-old, she at times seemed fully
adult, while at other times little more than a school girl. Ray
smiled as his mind rewound the years. He recalled her running
through the house, her arms held out to the side and making a
buzzing sound. She was trying to be an airplane, but sounded like a
mosquito. He had called her Skeeter ever since. Nora insisted on
calling her by her given name, Amy. Hair black as coal, skin the
color of cream, eyes a glacier blue. Boys flocked to her, but so
far she had turned down all their requests for dates. She was a
young woman with her own mind, not easily manipulated. She was
every father’s dream.
    The sound of the screen door banging against
the jamb echoed through the thick night air. It sounded like a clap
of thunder and Ray jerked. Turning, he saw the thin form of his
wife marching across the small yard.
    “You’re home.” Ray smiled. “I didn’t hear
the car.”
    “What are you doing out here?” Nora’s voice
had an edge to it. “It’s cold.” She was a tall woman with fawn hair
that hung to her shoulders. At thirty-nine, she still looked
youthful, but age was crouching at the door. Just the other night,
he had noticed a few gray hairs. He said nothing. Her eyes were
blue, but several shades darker than Skeeter’s.
    “Just thinking. How’s your sister?”
    “You have a lot to think about.” Ray could
tell she was upset. That was all he needed now: one more problem;
one more log on an emotional fire that already burned too hot.
    “What do you mean?”
    She pulled her full lips into a tight line.
“You know what I’m talking about. When were you going to tell
me?”
    How could she know? Before he could answer, Nora fired another volley
of words. “Do you think I like finding out about these things from
your agent?”
    That explained it. “I didn’t know about it
until I was at the book signing. I got a letter in the mail. I
couldn’t tell you before now, because we were both gone.”
    “You could have called me.”
    “Where? At your sister’s? What good would
that do?”
    “You shouldn’t keep things from me.”
    “I’m not keeping things from you. I was
going to tell you when you got home. Lighten up.”
    “You’ve just lost your next paycheck and
you’re telling me to lighten up. In case you haven’t noticed, our
saving account is down to $2,000 and we have a stack of bills
waiting to be paid. I can’t support this family alone.”
    “No one is asking you to. Now sit down and
let’s talk about this.”
    “I’m not sitting out here, it’s too cold.
Besides, there isn’t much to talk about. You will have to start
looking for work. I want you to call Soft-Ware tomorrow. Maybe
they’ll take you back.”
    “I’m not going back there.”
    “You’re not going to sit around here and do
nothing . . .”
    “I’m not going back there!” Ray shouted.
“And I’m not going to sit around doing nothing! I never have, I
never will.”
    “Sometimes I just don’t understand you,”
Nora shouted back.
    “You’ve never tried.”
    “That’s unfair,” Nora protested. Ray could
hear the hurt in her voice. She was frightened, and she had good
reason to be. She was